Wed
never intended on riding in Jordan after entering the
coutry. Our thinking was that it would make a convenient
starting point for our venture into Egypt. We also
thought it more than serendipitous that our friends
Claire and William would be stopping over here on their
way to India. With the help of our dear friend Olivier we
coordinated a rendez-vous in Amman. Arriving in Aqaba we
found our way to the Crystal Hotel and negotiated a room
with two enormous beds and windows opening out onto the
central market. Aside from the size of our nests and the
welcome letter from the hotels general manager the
centrally located Crystal was completely unremarkable.
Apparently translated by someone with a sick sense of
humor the letter declared proudly that his hotel featured
"widey rooms" and "speacial estrained
arts".

We left too soon to figure
out what these amenities could possibly be, but are sure
that someone will appreciate them. Aqaba treated us to a
wonderful fish dinner, part of which stray cats
vigorously enjoyed until a mean street urchin burned one
with his lit cigarette. Our other Aqabese discovery was
the best chocolate ice cream ever (in the terms of
Michelin guides "worth a detour".)

The next day we made an
early start of it. We rented a micro agouti car, named it
Akbar and made our way north to Amman to meet Claire and
William. Riding along the Red Sea, this time on the
Jordanian side of the border we began to appreciate our
trip along the other side. Far less inhabited than the
Israeli counterpart. Our lunch stop caused quite a
commotion. We drove through a little village in search of
something to eat. There was no Burger King or
McDonalds so we settled for a little falafel in a
stand near the bus station. Our presence somehow made the
shop very popular. Everyone in town with a free moment
stopped in to buy something and greet us with their best
English while mischievous Arab boys tried to roll our car
down the hill.

We faced many challenges
to make our next destination. Not the least of which was
Andys desire to stop and have a photo session with
each camel we passed. (It sparked an idea in me.
Well create an on-line calendar featuring the
camels of Jordan, Israel and Egypt as a feature on the
page.) Our biggest barrier to making it to our bathing
place on the Dead Sea were the numerous check points
where invariably a surly soldier would demand our
passports and ask for a ride for someone who was waiting
with him. Each conversation, no matter how curtly we
turned down the opportunity to have a passenger, ended
with "Welcome to Jordan."

When we finally did make
it to the Dead Sea Rest House I learned why so many
people carry flasks of fresh water to the beach. The
eye-full of Dead Sea water dished out the most painful
stinging sensation I could have imagined. Even knowing
the risks I cant stop singing the praises of
bobbing about in the water feeling the minerals leach out
the impurities from my skin. In an experiment we tried to
get the water to dry on us after leaving the water. In
the desert, where you air-dry from a shower in five
minutes, it was a surprise to find us still wet after
nearly half an hour. We finally gave up and rinsed off in
the outdoor showers where Andrew shrugged off the amorous
advances of a handsome young Jordanian.

Our car Akbar, showing
surprising strength for such a small beast, rocketed us
out of the Dead Sea valley to Amman, where we reached the
airport in ample time to exchange him for a more refined
and larger beast well in advance of Claire and
Williams flight.

Of that meeting and our
subsequent adventures in Amman and on the road to Petra
fair William writes:

Flight RJ116 from Paris
to Ammans Queen Alia airport arrived at around 6pm
local time. We (William and Claire (see France trip
(Chalonnes sur Loire)) were expecting to take a yellow
Mercedes service taxi to Downtown Amman to stay at the
RUM Continental hotel on Basman street but
thats not what happened. A pair of well tanned
legs, with white socks and dusty black shoes were
standing behind the aluminum barrier. It was Andrew. Our
3-day stopover to Jordan had just taken an interesting
new direction we certainly needed directions to
find that hotel in Amman, especially as we found out that
there are two downtowns - we needed the really deep
downtown place. Fred was at the wheel and made some
impressive U turns, one of which got us flagged down by
some local police.

After a few left turns
we found the hotel and decided on an immediate stomach
update. The Ammanese are very friendly and we found the
Jerusalem restaurant without too many problems en
route we met Sultan (if youre reading this Sultan
then hello and thanks). After Jerusalems we
embarked on having a sweet - the expression Dessert
Storm has taken on a whole new meaning - there is a
remarkably dangerous array of sugary based products for
sale in this region. The evening was topped off with
Turkish coffee and backgammon.

Next day (Thursday 13th
November 1997) breakfast consisted of coffee, pita
bread, jam and the "La Vache qui rit"
triangular shaped cheese then off and out of
Amman. Full marks to Fred for not having sweaty armpit
marks on his grey "American Rattlesnake Museum"
T-Shirt the driving can be very creative at times.
We finally found the Kings highway - a very twisty,
turny mountainous road that cuts through the heart of
Jordan. First stop was Madaba to explore the mosaics of
the St.George church - 4 Jordanian Dinars (JDs) later and
a visit to the archeological museum we carried on
southwards towards Petra. Yet another stop from
the local police at Kerak; this time they wanted to
hitchhike, in the back of the car.

Room 303 of the Petra
Palace hotel looks out at the red neon sign for the
Sun Set Hotel and the bouldery mountain-like
surface of this 2,600 year old site.

14-16 November, Petra
(f)

If
youve seen the third Indiana Jones movie you have
had a glance at one of the most astounding sights of
Petra, the Treasury. Unfortunately you have missed the
sense of anticipation of walking through the narrow slit
canyon that leads to it and the awe of its revelation to
you through the keyhole which is the opening to the site.
Arriving to the site in the morning youll see the
sun beaming down on it lighting up the wavy red and
orange hues of the iron impregnated sandstone. What is
harder to imagine than the beauty facade carved from one
piece of sandstone is that it is still in tact after over
2600 years.

We spent two full days
wandering around the site and I still feel that I could
have done it greater justice. The staff at our hotel
recommended that it would take in excess of two weeks to
see all of the structures. (This was probably true,
though they were likely looking to convince us to stay a
little longer in order to fill some of their empty rooms.
The area is vastly overbuilt with hotels. Many seemed to
be staying away with the seemingly imminent threat of war
between the US and Sadam Husseins forces in Iraq.)

(Many folks may be staying
away due to the cost of visiting Petra. A day trip from
Israel would be exorbitant. The exit tax from Israel is
56 shekels, entry to Jordan $20-50 (depending on your
nationality), transportation to and from by bus (who
knows .) and finally the entry for one day is nearly
$30. The locals thinking that anyone who visits must be
rich if they can afford entry tries to exact as many
Jordanian Agoutis as they possibly can out of everyone.
Regardless of the expense it is worth it.)

Petra is not for the faint
hearted. Though many of the sights are located in the
valley and can be accessed by foot, horse, camel or cart,
a true appreciation is only found by those who venture
into the steep wadis (canyons). From the plateau
surrounding the valley, once can survey it from above and
see the other buildings on high. Some of these hikes
involve climbs up one thousand or more steps or along
precariously perched trails. Anyone who meets these risks
and exerts the effort to climb is richly rewarded with
views beyond their imagination.

Click
on image to see full-sized version

Sunset in Petra

Entering ancient Petra

Click
on image to see full-sized version

Bedouin
housing project in Wadi Rum

Mixed
messages at the Israel-Jordan border

16 November, Back to
Aqaba (f)

Sadly
we said goodbye to William and Claire wishing them a bon
voyage to India. We had decided to visit a Bedouin town
called Wadi Rum in an immense canyon. Our intent was to
spend the night there in a tent but we were ferociously
disappointed upon finding this locale to be a horrible
tourist trap. During our drive through the village we
were accosted by no fewer than a dozen touts pitching
jeep trips through the valley. A stop at the rest house
there revealed that accommodation was not in Bedouin
tents as promised but in drab olive green army surplus
canvas jobs. We paid our three agoutis for a cup of
"Bedouin Coffee" served from a pump thermos and
hit the road.

Avis had asked us to
return the car empty, and we managed to get it to their
lot on fumes. We actually went there twice. Naively Andy
thought that bringing it back early wed get some
sort of discount. In effect we were two hours later than
wed picked it up and would be responsible for the
entire day regardless. We drove to our favorite
restaurant and had another chocolate ice cream. (see
above) Getting the bill for something like a rental car
in the Middle East is seldom a simple experience. This
day was no exception. Everyone in town seemed to be
involved in the transaction somehow, including the
managers two-meter and ten-centimeter tall
basketball playing brother. After an eternity we were
whisked away to the border to retrieve Siegfried and Roy
from the bomb shelter.